


Overload

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Empathy, Eventual Smut, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: “I don’t need the bunker,” he says, “I need you.”“Guerin—““You remember how I said when I played my entropy changed?” Alex nods, “it changed more when I was with you,” he says, coming to the realization aloud, “it’s you,” he realizes aloud, “you’re the thing that changes it.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt:  
> casualcloudlighttrash asked: If you are up for more fic writing I'd love to see Michael just absolutely lose it when he thinks Max is dead (but he's not really right??), Maria finding out about the aliens probably because of said meltdown, and Alex comforting Michael/stopping the possible utter destruction that is a powerful alien who has experienced one too many losses in a short time, with a positive Malex ending and no Maria bashing. *offers virtual pie*

Maybe he’s always known Max would die for Liz.

Some part of him expected it, in a vague way like that they would all die eventually. He and Isobel made the choice to keep Max safe. He can’t deny that while he likes Liz, Max’s questionable decision making has been on the rise since she came back. What he doesn’t expect is that the last words he ever says to him are ‘stay the hell away from me’ and he really, really doesn’t expect the complete rush of power that follows on the heels of the light in the back of his head he’s always called Max winking out. If his hand was faintly glowing from Max healing it, it flares bright and he finally has to look at Maria and acknowledge that he’s doing something really shitty here.

**“Max! No! Max come on!”**

Liz’s voice is the last thing he expects to hear in his head. It’s dim and it feels like it’s coming from a great distance, but he hears her. A lot like he heart his mom. He knows this is a second hand bond, because why the fuck wouldn’t it be? Though suddenly the overwhelming need to be near the woman he likes instead of the man he loves makes a lot more sense. Fucking straight men. He forces himself to put down the guitar and turn to Maria. She steps back when he moves closer and yeah he might deserve that but it still fucking hurts. She hasn’t thrown him out though. That’s more than he was expecting when Max turned his hand into a fucking flashlight.

“I can explain everything,” he says, “but Liz is in trouble.”

Maria is a god damn saint when her expression shifts from anger at him to concern for her friend.

“What’s wrong with Liz? Where is she?” He gives an approximation of where she is and Maria pushes him out, making sure the sign is turned and locking the door. He grips her arm and she pushes him off, “don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I can’t do this right now,” she says, “Liz needs me,” she looks at him silently and then wraps the dish towel he didn’t realize she had around his hand, “I want an explanation,” she says. He nods, “and I want my dish towel back.”

Michael watches her go. He doesn’t know that he can stand to be around Max right now for so many reasons. But the power humming livewire under his skin is not going to stay contained. Michael has always felt like a bomb about to go off but at the moment he feels nuclear.  He needs help. Michael hates needing help. The people he usually goes to are out. If Isobel can be around Max she should be.  _But she can’t because she’s a weak willed_ —he shoves back against the emotional turmoil. What is him, what is someone else? He barely can find himself in the onslaught. He needs help. Help from someone who hasn’t been hurt or manipulated by one of them. Who isn’t out of commission. He’s careful when he gets to his car. If he fries the battery he’s screwed. He’s equally careful to drive slowly, trying to minimize any great bouts of adrenaline.

The answer is sitting outside his trailer.

Usually Alex’s stubbornness pisses him off. At the moment he’s more grateful for the character trait than he ever has been. Alex checks his watch and Michael watches his shoulders tense. The fact that after so many times walking away, a slight delay has Alex already looking pissed off. Patience has never been his strong suit. Michael scrambles out of the car. Something distinctly Max washes over him.  **Desperate and pining and just seeing is enough and maybe she’ll look oh man oh man** —Michael grinds his teeth together. He and Alex have fucked each other on every surface of his airstream. Looking is not what he’s after. He has to throw his hand out to catch himself as his knees buckle.

“Guerin?” He opens his eyes to see Alex making his way towards him and crouching down as he leans back on his heels, “Guerin, what’s wrong?”

“I really hope you were right, about us connecting,” he says, gripping Alex’s forearm as confusion and realization flit rapidly over his face, “because I’m gonna need that,” he takes an unsteady breath, “also I might explode.”

“Explode how?” Alex questions.

“Kinetically?” Michael offers, “I gotta go to the bunker,” he says and focuses on the airstream, pushing it as gently as he can. When it’s just over enough he scrambles or tries to towards it. It’s Alex who helps him up and over, “thanks,”  Michael gets out.

“Guerin you’re burning up,” Alex says, “what’s going on?” When he doesn’t say anything Alex gets a look that makes him take back the nice things he thought about his stubbornness, “do you want me in that bunker?”

He gets a one two punch of  **hell no** and  _please yes_  that makes him have to shut his eyes. When he opens them Alex is still between him and the bunker, apparently not planning to move until Michael answers him. Alex doesn’t even do his deep breath thing, he just looks at him. He’s steady though. Michael doesn’t like to share on the best of days with the people closest to him. Life has taught him that isn’t a good idea. But Alex keeps staring at him and despite Isobel’s earlier words, there is still at least four people he would do anything to keep safe.

“Max killed Noah,” he says, “then he did this,” he continues, taking off the dish towel to show his hand, “when he heals there’s a connection,” he looks at Alex’s face, “I really wanted to be with a woman,” he says. Alex presses his lips together but let’s him continue. He’d cut his hand off for someone to tell him to shut up like they usually do, “Max died, and I guess because we’re aliens I got his and Noah’s power. I think my mom might be in there too—“ his stomach rolls, “but I know Max and Noah better.”

“Okay,” Alex says, “let’s get you in the bunker.”

He stares at Alex silently. Alex is perfectly steady. Michael has just told him things, any of which should make him flip out, but he isn’t. He’s just looking back at him steadily like this is shit he hearts every day. He’s ready for a fight if Michael puts one up, but with all the foreign energy humming through him he doesn’t know what will happen.

“Okay?” Michael repeats.

“Come on,” Alex says.

As they get closer to the bunker, Michael has a theory and stops himself. Carefully extracting himself from Alex’s grip, he steps back. Alex frowns and opens his mouth but Michael puts enough distance that he’s pushing the word proximity. His theory is proved on the surface when there’s a shift and the energy that’s replaced the blood in his veins begins to react. He moves towards Alex who once again barely knows what’s going on but knows enough to meet him and steady him, gripping his shoulders as Michael fists his leather jacket.

“I don’t need the bunker,” he says, “I need you.”

“Guerin—“

“You remember how I said when I played my entropy changed?” Alex nods, “it changed more when I was with you,” he says, coming to the realization aloud, “it’s you,” he realizes aloud, “you’re the thing that changes it.”

He knows that probably isn’t what Alex wants to hear at the moment. But Alex is a stubborn asshole who will face down his own issues to keep people safe. He has never wanted to put the alien stuff on Alex. He looks over his shoulder at the bunker. If he goes in there he might be able to explode and the power not hurt anyone. Or figure something out until they get to Liz and her antidote. Or he can do the alternate. He is prepared for the bunker but when he looks at Alex and his leather jacket and the impatience and frustration he’s trying to hide, he realizes that one of them is going to have to stop making decisions for both of them. If this has any shot.

“I can go in the bunker or I can stay by you,” he says, “anything else and I might go kaboom,” he tries to clear his eyes and see what Alex thinks, “which sounds better?”

“You blow up or we stick together?” Alex repeats. Michael nods weakly. Alex hangs his head and takes a deep breath, “unreal.”

“What?”

“You sex pollened us,” Alex says, “fuck or die?” Michael looks at him blankly, “either we stay together or you explode. It’s a trope they use in sci-fi.”

“I mean I’m an alien, so—“ He says, grinning weakly up at him, “I can go in the bunker if you aren’t comfortable with this,” he says, “and I don’t want to talk,” he adds quietly.

Alex looks at him silently and Michael doesn’t know what’s going on. He counts three heartbeats before Alex shakes his head and turns so his arm is around him. Michael almost collapses with relief as Alex grabs the dish towel and wraps it around his hand. He’s not leaving. Maria didn’t leave, he didn’t leave. Somewhere deep in his gut he feels a rush of affection that’s distinctly Max and maybe something else that is whatever honesty Noah had during their time as brother in laws.  ** _Goat Yoga_**  presses into his head and somewhere deeper, a female voice he knows beyond any explanation brushes through him,  **my sweet sweet boy. Let him see**. He looks at Alex who secures the towel with a bracelet Michael swears he wasn’t wearing before but might be tucked under his sleeve.

“Let’s get you to Liz,” Alex says.

“I don’t know if I can,” He blurts out, “Max is—“ he can’t say the words.

“You said you can feel him,” Alex says, “maybe he’s not gone for good,” he tells him, “but there’s only one way to find out,” Michael lets Alex steer him to his car.

“Will you stay?” Michael asks, his voice quiet

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alex tells him and Michael lets himself believe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Actual sex pollen fic involving sex

He wakes up sweaty and tangled in the sheets and aware that something is very, very wrong.

The power that has so far been quiet and contained as long as Alex is nearby is cranked up high again. Even though Alex is right there. Because Alex is a good guy and also a masochist who simply slipped into bed and turned on his side away from him, instead of telling Michael to get on the couch where he deserves to be. Actually that’s probably in the bunker, or maybe it’s being blown up. The energy digs viciously into him and he doubles over, wrapping his arms around himself and breathing through clenched teeth.

“Guerin?” Alex pushes himself up. It’s a testament to their trust that he still looks sleepy for a moment before he realizes something is very wrong, “Guerin,” Alex is off the bed and Michael realizes he didn’t take his leg off. Because Alex is smart. He comes around and approaches him quickly, “tell me how you feel.”

“Bad,” Michael bites out, “it’s not my stuff that’s quiet, it’s everyone else,” he shakes his head, “does your sex pollen thing say anything about this?”

“Nothing you want to hear right now,” Alex says.

Another wave of pain crashes over him and this time he can’t quite contain the yell. Fuck it, he’ll do anything to make this stop. Which is a point he gets to a lot faster when Alex is leaning over him bracing his arms against the bed. Their last time together flashes in front of him and he remembers walking that line, taking care as Alex fought to be as normal as possible. Michael’s secrets have always been something of an impediment when it comes to his sex life. Pretending to be normal while having sex is something he would call his life’s work. But Alex is back to normal or as normal as he’s ever going to get. There’s no crutch or balance issue that rules every step.

“Just tell me,” Michael snaps, “or get me to that bunker before I do something really stupid.” Alex looks at him steadily, his eyes searching his face and Michael tries to think back. He stopped reading sci-fi a long time ago because they got everything about the aliens wrong. The pain crackles through him again, “I’m not built for this. Please—“ Alarm flares in Alex’s eyes. Michael doesn’t beg. Fuck it he’s making an exception, “it really hurts.”

That seems to seal the deal for Alex. He leans over, taking all of his weight onto his prosthetic which has no business being as hot as it is. All of Michael’s stupid hopes and dreams flicker to life when he pulls out lube and condoms. Even in the haze of whatever this build up is, he realizes that Alex is a hundred percent serious. If he was willing to stay besides him and keep him close, Michael didn’t expect him to actually be willing to have sex with him. But Alex drops the supplies on the bed and looks at him.

“If we’re in a sex or die trope, then this is what they do,” he says.

“This isn’t the fast forward I had in mind,” Michael tells him honestly.

Something in Alex relaxes slightly. They’ve discussed their cosmic connection and some of the other stuff, but Michael knows there’s a mountain of shit for both of them to wade through before they are ready to take this step. But the agony and the power is building in him and he realizes his options might be severely limited. And fuck if he’s stuck in one of these awful sci-fi things because of his brother, he can at least be glad it’s with Alex. He sees Alex’s mouth moving and realizes he can’t hear him over the roar of his ears. Alex brushes back his curls and frowns. Michael latches onto the sensation and pushes back the roar.

“Sorry, I’m zoning out,” he says.

“Okay,” Alex tells him, “let’s hope this works.”

“How do we, uh—“ he trails off. Suddenly he feels really fucking awkward and even the gut wrenching pain can’t take that away. He manages to get to his knees on the bed, “doing this because we have to is weird.”

“It’s like you said,” Alex says, fighting a smile, “it’s not the fast forward you had in mind.”

“I figured we’d be in some fight or something,” Michael says, “or like a near death experience or at a rager—“

“You couldn’t just say ‘hey Alex let’s hook up’?” Alex says.

“Hey Alex,” Michael says in his best Alex voice, fisting his hand in Alex’s t-shirt, “could we fuck since my life might depend on it?”

Alex scoffs and before Michael can think about the look, he kisses him. The power turns to pop rocks under his skin but Michael focuses everything on the slide of Alex’s lips against his own. Alex is never a passive kisser. He always battles to dominate, even when he can’t use his words. Michael’s hand leaves his shirt as Alex wraps his arms around his lower back, pulling him against his chest. And fuck if Alex hasn’t been working out. Michael pulls back abruptly and Alex’s eyes snap open.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks, “I fucked up—things are fucked up with us. And I get that if I explode they can’t get better but—“ he doesn’t know what he wants to say. He’s always hated Alex taking every out he could. He doesn’t know why he’s giving it to him on a silver platter, “if you aren’t okay with this—“

“I get it,” Alex cuts in, “I know what I’m doing,” something cracks and he knocks his forehead against his, “but this doesn’t change anything.”

“I mean has sex ever when it comes to us?” Alex glares, “okay that one time—“

Alex cuts him off with another hot press of his lips that retreats the pain to a more moderate level, but still sharper than the last time. Michael knows that Alex doesn’t do well with rejection twice. He doesn’t expect him to pour his heart out. Alex kneads his lower back unexpectedly and Michael gasps into the kiss, only to have Alex’s tongue sweep inside his open mouth. He’s achingly hard already and he can feel Alex is too. Michael’s a firm believe in foreplay but fuck if he doesn’t want to just be there already. He tries to pull Alex down but Alex grips his hips and drags his lips away.

“Standing’s easier,” he says. It takes Michael’s pain addled mind a moment to realize what he’s saying.

“Oh, yeah, ‘course,” he says, pushing back against him.

Alex’s hands move along his hips. Michael’s fully clothed which hasn’t helped the whole heat situation. Alex undoes his belt and pops open his jeans, raking his fingers down the soft skin of his pelvis. He runs hot, he’s never believed in wearing underwear unless absolutely necessary. Alex knows that and smiles against his lips as he frees him from his jeans. Michael breaks the kiss to swear loudly as Alex wraps his hand around him. The pain retreats to a vicious ache that somehow makes this hotter.

“Fuck, Alex—“ he locks eyes with him. Alex searches his face and then drags his hand to the tip of him, “Jesus,” Michael drops his forehead to Alex’s collarbone, “don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Alex says and he’s so cool and so sure, Michael lets himself give in like he swore he would never do after the last time Alex walked away. Alex strokes him with one hand, his other dragging up the back of his neck. Michael full on moans into the fabric of his t-shirt, his hips pushing into Alex’s hand, “I got you,” Alex says, his other hand leaving Michael’s neck to thumb down his spine and push past his lower back, “come on.”

Michael chokes out his orgasm in an embarrassingly short time, but the relief is too nice to care. He’s always known how much cooler Alex was than him, biologically speaking though in a lot of other ways too if he thinks about it. But pressed against his shirt he’s so nice and cool Michael actually whines when he lets go of him and steps back to pull his t-shirt off. Michael realizes that they are wearing entirely too much clothing and grabs his own shirt, throwing it over Alex’s. Alex comes back and cups his face, kissing him like he’s the last breath of air he will take. It’s greedy and hot and Michael remembers that this is supposed to be his role. He’s the one who depends on this. But Alex kisses him like he’s equally dependent. He pulls back just enough to fumble for the bottle. Risking an actual explosion, Michael grabs it for him and thumps it into his hand.

Alex untangles himself again to open the bottle and lube his hand up. The anticipation makes Michael weak but he refuses to say in the knees. He sure as fuck doesn’t want them both struggling against themselves in whatever this is. Alex’s other hand strokes his lower back and eases his jeans down. Michael keeps their eyes locked together as Alex slips a finger inside him. It gives a whole new meaning to never looking away. He holds his gaze for as long as he can, trying not to shy away from the sensation of having him inside him which is somewhat strange after the other kinds of sex he’s been having. Alex shift slightly, putting more weight on his prosthetic and slides out before adding another finger. It’s harder to hold still as Alex moves his fingers. He’s being careful but he’s also going to make Michael loose his fucking mind.

“I need—“ Michael clamps his mouth shut. Alex chastely presses their lips together, gently parting them again, “Alex.” Michael whines his name.

“What do you need?” Alex asks.

“I need more,” Michael admits.

“Soon,” Alex says, carefully stretching him until finally, finally he brushes deep enough. Michael cries out as the crackles of pain flare and then go silent, giving him the most relief he’s had since he woke up, “Michael?”

“It’s working,” he says, gasping around the words, “oh  _fuck_  it’s working.”

Alex presses his lips hard to his and turns him. Michael rocks against the bed, groping for a pillow and shoving it under his hips as Alex holds his hand there. For the first time he uses his powers to yank off his pants as Alex keeps his fingers going, stretching him and curling inside him against his prostate. Everything isn’t the same with their anatomy but Michael thanks fuck this is. He knows Alex has to stop and he’ll be back in a moment but he also makes that same desperate noise as his fingers retreat. He hears Alex work quickly, stroking himself and rolling on one of the condoms, adding more lubricant. He presses his lips to Michael’s lower back and lifts his hips up, sliding another pillow underneath because Alex is microscopically taller than him. He’s careful as he pushes in, moving so Michael can adjust. Finally Michael can’t take the gentleness and pushes backwards until Alex is firmly inside him. He hears the noise Alex makes even before his forehead hits his back.

“God, fuck you Guerin,” he groans.

“That’s not on God, that’s on you Manes,” he says.

Alex full on fucking growls against his skin and it’s so much hotter than it has any right to be. The pain seems to go out every time Alex pulls back, like the release is coming from him. Every time he pushes forward, the only thing Michael can think about is when he hits that spot inside him that makes him see stars. Fucking stars. Fuck stars. The ones in the sky have nothing on the ones he’s seeing right now as they push and pull against each other. He lifts off the pillows at some point and Alex gets his hand between them and strokes him through the most earth shattering orgasm Michael’s had possibly in his entire life. He’s aware just as Alex ruts into him until he goes with a muffled swear of Michael’s name.

Fuck.

The pain is gone and Michael doesn’t give a fuck about the reasons. He can still feel the echo of power but it’s compartmentalized now. The pounding of his heart is deep and, if not steady, it’s definitely steadier than it was when he woke up. Alex is softer inside him but he’s still there. Until he slides out and this time Michael only sighs at the loss of sensation. He turns himself over, correctly assuming the sheets are already a lost cause and sends the pillows sailing off the bed as Alex drops down besides him. They are both sticky and lubricated and Michael feels way, way better. He looks over at Alex who is breathing deeply, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen and parted. Michael can’t resist rolling over and kissing him. Kissing Alex when he’s already wrecked from previous kisses is among his favorite things to do. Alex arches into the kiss but Michael presses him into the bed. He pulls back to see a decidedly dazed look on Alex’s face as he looks up at him.

Maybe the weirdest thing is that while sex doesn’t always change things, kissing definitely does. But as they look at each other Michael thinks it might not be a bad thing, to have that change.

“Did it work?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says.

“Good,” Alex replies, his gaze going soft before he closes his eyes, “I might need your help getting my leg off.”

MIchael combs his fingers through Alex’s hair as he carefully releases the mechanism with his power. Alex’s eyes fly open and he watches as the leg moves to the side, followed by the sleeve. MIchael takes even more care as he gently presses against Alex’s stump, pinpointing the knots that have come from a combination of factors—all of which he seems to be the cause of. Eventually Alex looks away from the invisible hands working his legs and back to the very real ones moving through his scalp.

“This okay?” Michael asks.

Alex nods and tugs him down by his curls to kiss him again.

“No more sex pollen next time,” he says, “we can just fuck like normal people.”

“Tell me you’re not nerding out at fucking an alien in a sex pollen trope,” Michael says in between kisses. He pulls his mouth away to look down Alex’s body, “I think someone’s definitely finding this attractive.”

“Shut up,” Alex says as Michael shifts closer to him. He raises an eyebrow, “but don’t stop.”


End file.
